Minor Prophets, Part 2

By Michael H Floyd

In this volume Floyd presents a complete form-critical analysis of the last six books in the Minor Prophets: Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi. By looking carefully at the literary genre and internal structure of each book, Floyd uncovers the literary conventions that help shape the composition of these prophetic books in their final form. His approach yields fresh views of how the parts of each book fit together to make up the whole — particularly with respect to Nahum, Haggai, and Malachi — and provides a basis for reconsidering how each book is historically related to the time of the prophet for whom it is named. This work will be useful to scholars because it advances the discussion regarding the holistic reading of prophetic books, and useful to pastors and students because it shows how analysis of literary form can lead to a more profound understanding of the messages of the Minor Prophets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eerdmans
• Release date: Feb 14, 2000
• ISBN: 9781467429313

Michael H Floyd

Michael H. Floyd is St. Michael's and All Angels' Professor of Old Testament at Episcopal Theological Seminary of the Southwest in Austin, Texas.

Book preview

Front Cover of Minor Prophets, Part 2

THE FORMS OF THE OLD TESTAMENT LITERATURE

*Now available

Book Title of Minor Prophets, Part 2

© 2000 Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Floyd, Michael H.

Minor Prophets. Part 2 / Michael H. Floyd.

p.cm.(The Forms of the Old Testament literature: v. 22)

ISBN 978-0-8028-4452-1 (pbk.)

1. Bible. O.T. Minor Prophets — Criticism, Form.

I. Title.II. Series.

BS1560.F562000

www.eerdmans.com

CONTENTS

Abbreviations and Symbols

Editors’ Foreword

Author’s Preface

NAHUM

Chapter 1

The Book as a Whole

Chapter 2

The Superscription (1:1)

Chapter 3

The First Major Section of the Book (1:2–2:11 [RSV 1:2–2:10]) and Its Individual Units

Chapter 4

The Second Major Section of the Book (1:12–3:19 [RSV 2:11–3:19]) and Its Individual Units

HABAKKUK

Chapter 1

The Book as a Whole

Chapter 2

The Superscription (1:1)

Chapter 3

The First Major Section of the Book (1:2–17) and Its Individual Units

Chapter 4

The Second Major Section of the Book (2:1–20) and Its Individual Units

Chapter 5

The Third Major Section of the Book (3:1–19)

ZEPHANIAH

Chapter 1

The Book as a Whole

Chapter 2

The Superscription (1:1)

Chapter 3

The First Major Section of the Book (1:2–18) and Its Individual Units

Chapter 4

The Second Major Section of the Book (2:1–3:13) and Its Individual Units

Chapter 5

The Third Major Section of the Book (3:14–20) and Its Individual Units

HAGGAI

Chapter 1

The Book as a Whole

Chapter 2

The Individual Units

ZECHARIAH

Chapter 1

The Book as a Whole

Chapter 2

The First Major Section of the Book (1:1–6)

Chapter 3

The Second Major Section of the Book (1:7–6:15) and Its Individual Units

Chapter 4

The Third Major Section of the Book (7:1–8:23) and Its Individual Units

Chapter 5

The Fourth Major Section of the Book (9:1–11:17) and Its Individual Units

Chapter 6

The Fifth Major Section of the Book (12:1–14:21) and Its Individual Units

MALACHI

Chapter 1

The Book as a Whole

Chapter 2

The Superscription (1:1)

Chapter 3

The Introduction (1:2–5)

Chapter 4

The First Major Section of the Book (1:6–2:16) and Its Individual Units

Chapter 5

The Second Major Section of the Book (2:17–3:24 (RSV 2:17–4:16)

Glossary

Genres

Formulas

ABBREVIATIONS AND SYMBOLS

I. MISCELLANEOUS ABBREVIATIONS AND SYMBOLS

II. PUBLICATIONS

Editors’ Foreword

This book is the eleventh in a series of twenty-four volumes planned for publication. The series eventually will present a form-critical analysis of every book and each unit of the Old Testament (Hebrew Bible) according to a standard outline and methodology. The aims of the work are fundamentally exegetical, attempting to understand the biblical literature from the viewpoint of a particular set of questions. Each volume in the series will also give an account of the history of the form-critical discussion of the material in question, attempt to bring consistency to the terminology for the genres and formulas of the biblical literature, and expose the exegetical procedure in such a way as to enable students and pastors to engage in their own analysis and interpretation. It is hoped, therefore, that the audience will be a broad one, including not only biblical scholars but also students, pastors, priests, and rabbis who are engaged in biblical interpretation.

There is a difference between the planned order of appearance of the individual volumes and their position in the series. While the series follows basically the sequence of the books of the Hebrew Bible, the individual volumes will appear in accordance with the projected working schedules of the individual contributors. The number of twenty-four volumes has been chosen for merely practical reasons that make it necessary to combine several biblical books in one volume at times, and at times to have two authors contribute to the same volume. Volume XIII is an exception to the arrangement according to the sequence of the Hebrew canon in that it omits Lamentations. The commentary on Lamentations will be published with the second of two volumes on the book of Psalms.

The initiation of this series is the result of deliberations and plans that began some twenty years ago. At that time the current editors perceived the need for a comprehensive reference work that would enable scholars and students of the Hebrew scriptures to gain from the insights that form-critical work had accumulated throughout seven decades, and at the same time to participate more effectively in such work themselves. An international and interconfessional team of scholars was assembled and has been expanded in recent years.

Several possible approaches and formats for publication presented themselves. The work could not be a handbook of the form-critical method with some examples of its application. Nor would it be satisfactory to present an encyclopedia of the genres identified in the Old Testament literature. The reference work would have to demonstrate the method on all of the texts, and identify genres only through the actual interpretation of the texts themselves. Hence, the work had to be a commentary following the sequence of the books in the Hebrew Bible (the Kittel edition of the Biblia hebraica then and the Biblia hebraica stuttgartensia now).

The main purpose of this project is to lead the student to the Old Testament texts themselves, and not just to form-critical studies of the texts. It should be stressed that the commentary is confined to the form-critical interpretation of the texts. Consequently, the reader should not expect here a full-fledged exegetical commentary that deals with the broad range of issues concerning the meaning of the text. In order to keep the focus as clearly as possible on a particular set of questions, matters of text, translation, philology, verse-by-verse explanation, etc. are raised only when they appear directly relevant to the form-critical analysis and interpretation.

The adoption of a commentary format with specific categories for the analysis of the texts rests upon a conclusion that has become crucial for all form-critical work. If the results of form criticism are to be verifiable and generally intelligible, then the determination of typical forms and genres, their settings and functions, has to take place through the analysis of the forms in and of the texts themselves. This leads to two consequences for the volumes in this series. First, each interpretation of a text begins with the presentation of the structure of that text in outline form. The ensuing discussion of this structure attempts to distinguish the typical from the individual or unique elements, and to proceed on this basis to the determination of the genre, its setting, and its intention. Traditio-historical factors are discussed throughout this process where relevant; e.g., is there evidence of a written or oral stage of the material earlier than the actual text before the reader?

Second, the interpretation of the texts accepts the fundamental premise that we possess all texts basically at their latest written stages—technically speaking, at the levels of the final redactions. Any access to the texts, therefore, must confront and analyze that latest edition first, i.e., a specific version of that edition as represented in a particular text tradition. Consequently, the commentary proceeds from the analysis of the larger literary corpora created by the redactions back to any prior discernible stages in their literary history. Larger units are examined first, and then their subsections. Therefore, in most instances the first unit examined in terms of structure, genre, setting, and intention is the entire biblical book in question; next the commentary treats the individual larger and then smaller units.

The original plan of the project was to record critically all the relevant results of previous form-critical studies concerning the texts in question. While this remains one of the goals of the series, it had to be expanded to allow for more of the research of the individual contributors. This approach has proved to be important not only with regard to the ongoing insights of the contributors but also in view of the significant developments that have taken place in the field in recent years. The team of scholars responsible for the series is committed to following a basic design throughout the commentary, but differences of emphasis and even to some extent of approach will be recognized as more volumes appear. Each author will ultimately be responsible for his own contribution.

The use of the commentary is by and large self-explanatory, but a few comments may prove helpful to the reader. This work is designed to be used alongside the Hebrew text or a translation of the Bible. The format of the interpretation of the texts, large or small, is the same throughout, except in cases where the biblical material itself suggests a different form of presentation. Individual books and major literary corpora are introduced by a general bibliography referring to wider information on the subjects discussed and to works relevant for the subunits of that literary body. Whenever available, a special form-critical bibliography for a specific unit under discussion will conclude the discussion of that unit. In the outline of the structure of units, the system of sigla attempts to indicate the relationship and interdependence of the parts within that structure. The traditional chapter and verse divisions of the Hebrew text, as well as the versification of the Revised Standard Version, are supplied in the right-hand margin of the outlines.

In addition to the commentary on the biblical book, this volume includes a glossary of the genres discussed in the commentary. Many of the definitions in the glossary were prepared by Professor Sweeney, but some have arisen from the work of other members of the project on other parts of the Old Testament. Each subsequent volume will include such a glossary. Eventually, upon the completion of the commentary series, all of the glossaries will be revised in the light of the analysis of each book of the Old Testament and published as Volume XXIII of the series. The individual volumes will not contain special indices, but the indices for the entire series will be published as Volume XXIV.

The editors acknowledge with appreciation the contribution of numerous persons and institutions to the work of the project. All of the contributors have received significant financial, secretarial, and student assistance from their respective institutions. In particular, the editors have received extensive support from their universities. Without such concrete expressions of encouragement the work scarcely could have gone on. At Claremont, the Institute for Antiquity and Christianity has from its own inception provided office facilities, a supportive staff, and the atmosphere that stimulates not only individual but also team research. Emory University and the Candler School of Theology have likewise provided tangible support and encouragement. The editors are particularly indebted to Jacqueline E. Lapsley of Princeton Theological Seminary for her extraordinary editorial assistance in the preparation of this volume while she was a graduate student at Emory University, and to Dr. and Mrs. J. E. Williams for their generous financial support of our work.

ROLF P. KNIERIM

GENE M. TUCKER

MARVIN A. SWEENEY

AUTHOR’S PREFACE

It has now been several decades since the Old Testament Form Criticism Project was conceived and the Forms of the Old Testament Literature series began publication. In the meantime biblical scholarship has changed. The methods of modern historical scholarship, including form criticism, have been radically doubted, and there is no longer any consensus about the function of a commentary. In view of these changes, a work that purports to be a form-critical commentary probably needs to explain itself.

Form criticism is based on two insights of Hermann Gunkel: (1) that our understanding of any text is inevitably based on some concept of its genre; and (2) that the genres of Old Testament literature are more closely related to oral tradition than those of modern European literature. Early form critics also tended to assume that the contents as well as the forms of most texts were rooted in oral tradition. The identification of genre thus became instrumental in the traditio-historical quest for earlier versions of the material contained in the text. From the ideal form of the genre one could supposedly deduce what the original, presumably oral form of the text must have been.

All quests for the original forms of biblical texts have rightly been called into question, but this does not discredit Gunkel’s basic insights. In fact, biblical scholarship’s shift from a predominantly historical to a predominantly literary approach does nothing to diminish the importance of form criticism’s main concerns. From a literary-critical perspective it can also be argued that the interpretation of any text entails some concept of its genre. Genre categories are always operative, consciously or subconsciously, in our understanding of language. For literary interpretation, the real issue is thus not whether the question of genre matters, but whether it is to be intentionally and explicitly addressed. When biblical scholarship does so with respect to its particular literary corpus, as I have done here with respect to some of the prophetic books, Gunkel’s other claim also remains largely vindicated. As it turns out, many genres of Old Testament literature—or at least many of the prophetic genres that I have investigated here—are indeed more closely related to oral tradition than the genres of modern European literature.

This conclusion means only that biblical writers tended to pattern what they wrote on what they heard. It does not necessarily imply that there were earlier oral versions of any texts now contained in the Bible. Nor does it necessarily imply that any earlier oral versions, even if they once existed, are now recoverable from the final forms of biblical texts. When pursued as a primarily literary discipline, form criticism is mainly concerned with the genre of the final form of the text, and the question of whether the text had any historical antecedents is taken up if and only if the final form of the text provides some basis on which to do so. Sometimes the final form of a prophetic text is by definition predicated on the existence of earlier prophecies, and in such cases it may be helpful to pursue the historical question of what those earlier prophecies were, but only as far as the available information actually allows, and only in order to understand the final form of the text.

Although I take a primarily literary approach to form criticism, I have not found it possible to make a radical distinction between literature and history. Unlike the early form critics, I do not see the quest for the original form of the text as an integral part of the discipline. Unlike many contemporary literary critics, however, I do not see how an interpreter can avoid the historical questions that are inevitably raised by literary analysis itself. If language is always understood with reference to some social context, so is literature; and in the case of ancient documents literary interpretation thus entails some kind of historical investigation. Such historical investigation is the means to a literary end, however, not an end in itself.

Neither is form-critical analysis an end in itself. Consideration of genre is a key part of the interpretive process, but only a part. Form-critical analysis, of the sort that is undertaken here, focuses on this one aspect of interpretation at the expense of all the rest, in order to be of assistance to those who undertake the entire process. I thus imagine that readers wrestling with the meaning of a text from one of the prophetic books treated in this volume will eventually need to ask about its genre. If they do not want to conduct this part of the process from scratch, they may be helped by consulting this commentary. They will find in it a point of departure for their reflection on this one particular aspect of interpretation.

In the sections labeled Text, there are preliminary analyses of only those text-critical and translation problems that have some direct bearing on form-critical issues, using the Revised Standard Version as a general point of reference. In the sections labeled Structure, Genre, and Setting, readers have not only my considered opinion regarding the genre and the social context in which it was conventional, but also the literary structure analysis on which my opinion is based, and often a report of other scholarly opinions as well. If they do not find my conclusion persuasive, they will have information on which to base an alternative conclusion. They can thus bring an informed view of the text’s genre to the larger consideration of its meaning. In the sections labeled Intention, I have tried to signal the general direction in which the previously stated genre classification might take the readers’ reflection on the text.

The textual analysis presented in these pages thus does not pretend to be a complete interpretation. The entire discussion specializes in form-critical issues, on the assumption that their clarification will make a signal contribution to the overall task of interpretation. The technicalities are validated by the creativity of the more complete interpretations that they help other readers to generate.

In working at this project off and on for many years, I have become indebted to more people than I can thank here. Some, however, cannot go unmentioned. While I was teaching at Texas Wesleyan University, President Jon Fleming and Dean Ronald Ballard encouraged me and allowed me time to begin this work. Parts of this volume were completed on various sabbatical leaves supported by the Trustees of the Episcopal Theological Seminary of the Southwest and the Conant Fund of the Episcopal Church’s Board for Theological Education. Before the Seminary became completely computerized, page upon page was typed by Nancy Mourette Bose, our Faculty Secretary. Ehud Ben Zvi, Robert Haak, Roy Melugin, David Petersen, and Marvin Sweeney kindly gave preliminary versions of various sections a critical reading. (They are not to be implicated in any of my mistakes.) The onerous chore of final proofreading was shared by Webster Gibson and Mikail McIntosh-Doty. Pat Booher and Rob Cogswell, from the Library staff at the Seminary of the Southwest, have provided the most competent and agreeable research support that any writer could wish for.

Last but not least, I express my appreciation for the patience and good humor of my family: my wife April, who unwittingly married into this project; and my children Simeon, Hannah, and Joel, who have grown up thinking that it was a permanent part of my vocation.

NAHUM

Bibliography

E. Achtemeier, Nahum–Malachi (IntCom; Atlanta: John Knox, 1986); L. Alonso Schökel and J. L. Sicre Diaz, Profetas: Comentario, vol. 2 (NBE; Madrid: Cristiandad, 1980); W B. Becking, Is het boek Nahum een literaire eenheid? NedTTs 32 (1978) 107–24; K. J. Cathcart, Nahum in the Light of Northwest Semitic (BibOr 26; Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1973); D. L. Christensen, The Book of Nahum: The Question of Authorship within the Canonical Process, JETS 31 (1988) 51–58; idem, The Book of Nahum as a Liturgical Composition: A Prosodic Analysis, JETS 32 (1989) 159–69; R. J. Coggins, Nahum, in Coggins and S. P. Esther Re’emi, Israel among the Nations: Nahum, Obadiah, Esther (ITC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Edinburgh: Handsel, 1985); K. Elliger, Das Buch der zwölf Kleinen Propheten, vol. 2 (4th ed.; ATD 25/2; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1959); F. O. García-Treto, The Book of Nahum, NIB 7:593–619; A. Haldar, Studies in the Book of Nahum (Uppsala: Lundequistska Bokhandeln, 1947); F. Horst, Nahum, in T. H. Robinson and Horst, Die Zwölf Kleinen Propheten (2nd ed.; HAT 14; Tübingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1954); P. Humbert, Le problème du livre de Nahoum, RHPR 12 (1932) 1–15; J. Jeremias, Kultprophetie und Gerichtsverkündigung in der späten Königszeit Israels (WMANT 35; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1970); C.-A. Keller, Nahoum, in R. Vuilleumier and Keller, Michée, Nahoum, Habacuc, Sophonie (CAT 11b; Neuchâtel: Delachaux & Niestlé, 1971); W. A. Maier, The Book of Nahum (Saint Louis: Concordia, 1959); K. Marti, Das Dodekapropheton (KHC 13; Tübingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1904); R. D. Patterson and M. E. Travers, Literary Analysis and the Unity of Nahum, GTJ 9 (1988) 45–58; B. Renaud, La composition du livre de Nahoum: Une proposition, ZAW 99 (1987) 198–219; J. J. M. Roberts, Nahum, Habakkuk, and Zephaniah (OTL; Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1991); W. Rudolph, Micha, Nahum, Habakuk, Zephanja (KAT 13/3; Gütersloh: Mohn, 1975); H. Schulz, Das Buch Nahum (BZAW 129; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1973); K. Seybold, Profane Prophetie (SBS 135; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1989); J. M. P. Smith, Nahum, in Smith, W. H. Ward, and J. A. Bewer, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Micah, Zephaniah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Obadiah, and Joel (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1911); R. L. Smith, Micah–Malachi (WBC 32; Waco: Word, 1984); K. Spronk, Synchronic and Diachronic Approaches to the Book of Nahum, in Synchronic or Diachronic? A Debate on Method in Old Testament Exegesis (ed. J. C. de Moor; OTS 34; Leiden: Brill, 1995) 159–86; M. A. Sweeney, Concerning the Structure and Generic Character of the Book of Nahum, ZAW 104 (1992) 364–77; A. S. van der Woude, The Book of Nahum: A Letter Written in Exile, OTS 20 (1977) 108–26; J. D. W. Watts, The Books of Joel, Obadiah, Jonah, Nahum, Habakkuk and Zephaniah (CBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975).

Chapter 1

THE BOOK AS A WHOLE

Structure

The book of Nahum is largely concerned with a particular historical event: the fall of Nineveh to the combined forces of the Babylonians and Medes in 612 BCE. Scholars differ widely in their understanding of the document and of how it is related to this event. Some maintain that Nahum, unlike many prophetic books, did not go through successive stages of redaction. In their view the book is all of one piece, written by a single author sometime after the conquest of Thebes in 663 (an event that is retrospectively described in 3:8–10) but before the fall of Nineveh in 612. Scholars who share this view are by no means agreed, however, in their opinions on the nature of the document. Becking sees it simply as the prophet’s means of publicizing his revelations concerning Nineveh’s doom (pp. 122–24). Haldar sees it as a propagandistic tract written by Judahite cultic personnel in the late seventh century, conjuring up the prospect of liberation in order to foment popular opposition to Assyrian domination (pp. 147–49). Van der Woude sees Nahum as a letter from someone of northern Israelite descent whose ancestors were exiled by the Assyrians. This letter was supposedly written to Judahite coreligionists to comfort them during the reign of Manasseh when Assyrian influence on Judah was at its harshest (van der Woude, 124).

In contrast with such views, other scholars regard the book of Nahum as the product of redaction, resulting from the gradual editorial expansion of an original core of prophecies predating the fall of Nineveh. Again, however, there is little agreement even among those who share this general approach. Some see liturgical influence as a major factor in the book’s formation, and others do not. Some think that the redactional process would have been finished relatively soon after 612 (e.g., Rudolph, 144–45), but others think that it extended on into the exilic or even postexilic period (e.g., Elliger, 2–3). Some define the original core in terms of one type of prophetic speech, while others define it in terms of another type.

For example, Humbert holds that prophecies anticipating Nineveh’s defeat—prophecies that were perhaps originally intended for ritual proclamation—were soon afterward augmented with other materials to form the liturgy for a victory celebration (Le problème, 3–4). Rudolph rejects the possibility of a cultic setting altogether (pp. 144–45), while Horst argues more guardedly that the original prophecies were edited soon after the event they foretold, not to form a liturgy per se but to be publicly read in a liturgical context (pp. 153–55).

Scholars who advocate some form of redactional theory are far from agreement on which parts of the book belonged to the original core and which were later additions. For example, Schulz (pp. 17–18) sees the prophecies of salvation addressed to Judah as the basic core, rather than the prophecies of punishment addressed to Assyria. This view stands diametrically opposed to that of Jeremias (pp. 48–53), who argues that the prophecies of punishment are the oldest material and that they were originally addressed to Judah rather than to Assyria.

There is likewise little unanimity regarding either the main parts of the book or the whole that they make up. For example, Roberts finds four major sections (1:2–2:1; 2:2–14; 3:1–17; 3:18–19) that together form a repeated announcement of Yahweh’s impending judgment on Assyria (pp. 37–38). In contrast, Renaud finds five somewhat different sections (1:2–8; 1:9–2:3; 2:4–11; 2:12–3:17; 3:18–19) that collectively project the defeat of Nineveh onto an eschatological screen, so that it becomes the emblem of the final defeat of evil at the end of time (pp. 211–18). Sweeney, differing yet again, finds only three main sections (1:2–10; 1:11–2:1; 2:2–3:19), which he regards as a refutation speech of the sort that typically occurs in prophetic disputations, challenging the assumption that Yahweh is powerless by attributing the fall of Nineveh to him (pp. 374–77). No wonder Coggins (pp. 6–7) casts doubt on the very possibility of structural analysis—even as he proceeds to lay out his own somewhat different seven-section scheme!

The differences of opinion, of which those cited above are only a partial sample, are too numerous and diverse to address individually here. In raising the question of Nahum’s overall nature and design and of the book’s relation to the historical event on which it is largely focused, I will limit myself to the kinds of conclusions that can be drawn from a structural analysis of the book’s final form, which after all constitutes the primary evidence. In view of a total lack of scholarly consensus, the structure analysis presented here can only be tentative. It will nevertheless serve heuristically as the ground on which to reconsider some of the larger questions of interpretation. I will discuss other scholarly theories only insofar as they reach conclusions based on similar grounds.

The superscription (1:1) describes this document as "a maśśāʾ (RSV ‘oracle’) concerning Nineveh, and the book (sēper) of the revelation (ḥăzôn; RSV ‘vision’) of Nahum." I will return to a consideration of what can be more specifically deduced from such terminology. Suffice it to note at the outset that the title (1:1a) relates the entire composition to the fate of Nineveh, regardless of whether this is explicit in any particular part of it. The subtitle (1:1b) further identifies the document as a written composition that is related to a revelation once mediated through a prophet named Nahum. My analysis of the main body thus focuses on two issues: (1) how the book as a whole presents the fall of Nineveh; and (2) how the book as a written composition relates to prophetic activity traditionally associated with the figure of Nahum, prophetic activity that may have initially involved written or oral communication. I consider these two issues in the light of what one can learn from examining the overall format of the main body, the various perspectives from which the fall of Nineveh is viewed, and the way in which the description of this event develops and progresses.

With respect to format, the first major section of the book (1:2–2:11) is addressed to a general audience, including but not limited to both Judahites and Assyrians. It recounts the fall of Nineveh from start to finish in 2:1–11, presenting it as a particular case of the way in which Yahweh generally treats his enemies (1:2–10), and as the eventual outcome of a historical process initiated by Yahweh long ago (1:11–14). More specifically, the announcement of Nineveh’s fall serves to confirm previous prophecies (1:12–13) regarding the end to which the Assyrians’ departure from Jerusalem in 701 (1:11) would inevitably lead, in accord with primordial precedent (1:2–10).

The second major section of the book (2:12–3:19) is addressed only to the Assyrians. The fall of Nineveh, which is episodically recounted in the progression from unit to unit, is presented as an event that has happened (3:13–19) to vindicate the claims of contemporary observers regarding the current international situation and Yahweh’s involvement in it (2:12–3:7). More specifically, the announcement that Nineveh’s once powerful commercial and ruling classes have disappeared into thin air (3:16) corroborates the prophetic claim that Yahweh is punishing Nineveh precisely because of the economic exploitation and political treachery that have characterized its dealings with other nations (3:1–4); the announcement that a mortally wounded king is the only remaining vestige of Assyrian leadership (3:18–19) corroborates the prophetic claim that Yahweh has doomed Assyria precisely because of its royal family’s predatory behavior (2:12–14); and the announcement that Nineveh’s defenses are irreparably breached (3:13–15a) corroborates the observation that the city’s fortifications have become ripe for the taking (3:12).

The second section also presents the fall of Nineveh as happening in accord with the precedent set when the once invincible city of Thebes was previously overthrown by the Assyrians themselves (3:8–12). Just as Thebes was once subjected to a reversal of historical roles by the Assyrians, so that the conquerors became the conquered, the Assyrians are now being subjected to a similar reversal by a new imperial power.

When considered in terms of their contrasting perspectives, the two sections can be seen as complementary. The first section describes how the fall of Nineveh looks from a perspective that is predominantly Judahite in its orientation but also international in its scope. Viewed from this standpoint, the event is construed in the light of both older mythic traditions concerning Yahweh’s primordial exploits and older prophetic traditions concerning Yahweh’s past dealings with the Assyrians. The second section then goes back over the same ground in an extended flashback. It describes how the fall of Nineveh looks from a perspective that is predominantly Assyrian in its orientation but also broad enough in its scope to include Judah. Viewed from this standpoint, the event is construed in the light of both contemporary prophetic assessments of the situation and commonsense judgments regarding the Assyrians’ inability to maintain the status quo indefinitely. These two perspectives differ somewhat in their respective assessments of how and why Nineveh fell, but they converge in portraying Yahweh as the one who is chiefly responsible for bringing this about.

The two sections are also complementary with respect to the overall development and progression in the description of Nineveh’s fall. This event is first described, from the initial cry of alarm at the enemy’s approach to the final deportation of the captives, at the conclusion of the first section (2:2–11). The second section then recapitulates the same progression, from the initial enemy threat (2:12–13) to the final dispersion of the survivors (3:18), but in a way that repeatedly thrusts readers into the middle of the action and each time brings them a little closer to the final outcome. This has an effect that is not unlike a parody of the death scene from an opera or classical drama, in which the main character has already reached the point of death but keeps reviving for one more farewell speech or one more aria before collapsing again and continuing to die.

As each unit of the second section begins, the fall of Nineveh is already in progress; and as each unit ends, no matter how far the devastation has progressed, the ultimate point of defeat has yet to be reached. The persistent repetition of this device shows it to be a deliberate compositional feature of this section within the larger framework of the book as a whole. The entire composition is designed first to tell the reader that Nineveh has been destroyed just as prophecies foretold, and then to bring the reader again and again to the point at which this prophesied outcome is an ever more foregone conclusion, although its utter completion remains to be seen.

From the foregoing observations regarding the format of the book’s main body, the differing perspectives from which the fall of Nineveh is viewed, and the way in which the description of this event progresses and develops, one can draw some general conclusions about how the book presents the fall of Nineveh to its readers, and how the book depends on previously existing prophetic traditions.

First, the fall of Nineveh is presented from a retrospective standpoint as an event that has recently happened. At the same time it is presented as an event to be vicariously relived again and again, and as an event that maintains its relevance for succeeding generations, because it is a concrete historical example of a recurring situation in which Yahweh typically acts the same way. As creator of the world he can influence cosmic forces in favor of those who cooperate with him in maintaining a just world order, and he can influence cosmic forces to the detriment of those who oppose him in this regard. As the first section moves from this broad theological generalization about a particular pattern of divine involvement in human affairs to the specific case of Nineveh’s overthrow, readers are challenged to consider whether their current situation might not be another instance of Yahweh’s acting in accord with this same pattern, in which case they are also challenged to consider whether they belong among Yahweh’s allies or among his foes.

In moving from a general description of how Yahweh treats his enemies and allies to a specific historical case, the book uses a device that requires readers to hesitate in identifying the cast of characters. At the outset readers know only that any characters they may meet will have something to do with Nineveh (1:1a). When characters are finally introduced, all are initially addressed or described without being named, which puts readers in the position of having to tell one from another by means of such meager distinctions as their differing grammatical genders, while also trying to figure out the historical identity of each. The historical identities are eventually made explicit, but not before readers have had to form some tentative ideas on this score just to make provisional sense of the unfolding text. When each character is finally named, some readers may have to revise their earlier assumptions about who this is.

It gradually becomes clear that there are three main dramatis personae: a feminine character (1:11–13), who turns out to be a personification of Judah (2:1); a masculine character (1:14), who is not conclusively identified until the end of the book as the king of Assyria (3:18–19); and another feminine character (2:2), who turns out to be a personification of Nineveh (2:8; 3:7). The process of trial and error through which readers must go to identify these characters leaves a distinct impression of the uncertainties that are inevitably involved in any attempt to identify a particular historical situation with a general pattern of divine activity.

Second, the fall of Nineveh is presented as an event that looks pretty much the same no matter which of the book’s perspectives its readers might tend to share. They might view this event from the perspective in which Yahweh’s agency is explicitly acknowledged and prophetic revelation is held in high regard, as in the first section. Or they might view it from the perspective in which Yahweh’s agency is not so widely recognized and prophetic revelation is no more highly regarded than commonsense observation, as in the second section. From either standpoint the Assyrians appear to have been caught in the interplay of historical forces with which human beings must from time to time interact, but over which humans have little control; and in the process the Assyrians have received their just deserts. It is implied that readers who see this have tacitly recognized Yahweh, but readers do not have to confess the God of Israel in order to grasp the universally comprehensible moral significance of Assyria’s overthrow.

Third, the fall of Nineveh is presented as an event in which one can discern Yahweh’s involvement through two different but mutually informative kinds of prophetic activity. Such prophetic insight can derive from studying the records of older prophecies concerning past events, as is the case in the first section of the book; it can also derive from intuitive analysis of contemporary affairs, as is the case in the second section. The book thus models for its readers the way in which they are to use it in discerning how Yahweh might be involved in their own situation. On the one hand they are to study the book as the record of a prophecy concerning a past event, thus learning how to recognize the pattern of divine activity that is evident in the fall of Nineveh. On the other hand they are to analyze their own situation intuitively, to see if they might discern this same pattern within the flux of current events.

With regard to the question of whether and to what extent the finished form of Nahum depends on previously existing prophetic traditions, the format of the book’s first section is the primary source of information. It describes Nineveh’s fall in 612 (2:1–11) as the fulfillment of two older prophecies (1:12–13 and 1:14) concerning the eventual outcome of an event that happened nearly a century earlier, i.e., the Assyrians’ departure from Jerusalem in 701 (1:11; → 1:11–14, Text). This section thus presupposes the existence of previously existing traditions that were concerned with what this mysterious departure portended, based on prophecies made sometime after 701 but well before 612. The book itself, composed sometime after 612, is predicated on the assumption that the fall of Nineveh showed these older prophecies to have been more or less correct in their view of what would finally result from the Assyrians’ retreat.

It is therefore probable that 1:12–13 and 1:14 are based on prophecies that originated sometime during the century prior to the composition of the book as a whole. Little more can be said with any certainty about the book’s tradition history. Although both 1:12–13 and 1:14 are modeled on conventional types of prophetic speech, it is unlikely that either now remains in its original form (→ 1:11–14, Structure). It is therefore difficult to reach any conclusion regarding whether the older prophecies were oral or written, or how they were transmitted. It is possible that other parts of the book are also based on older traditions, but since they are not presented as such in the final form of the book, it is difficult to distinguish any material that is traditional from material that is not. Although many of the book’s individual units have generic forms that are typical of independently existing prophetic speeches, this does not necessarily mean that these units ever existed independently (→ 1:2–2:11, Setting; also 2:12–3:19, Setting).

With regard to the formation of prophetic books in general, scholars usually assume that the original core of prophetic tradition can be attributed to the prophetic figure for whom the book is named. On this assumption one could suppose that the tradition underlying 1:12–13 and 1:14 derives from Nahum himself, and that the book into which this tradition has been incorporated is the work of a later anonymous author. It is conceivable, however, that the tradition underlying 1:12–13 and 1:14 derives from an anonymous prophetic figure, and that the book into which it has been incorporated is the work of Nahum. It is even conceivable, if the prophecies underlying 1:12–13 and 1:14 date to a time rather long after the event they serve to interpret, that Nahum was responsible for both the original prophecies and the book into which they were subsequently incorporated. Because the superscription is in third person biographical rather than first person autobiographical style, the first of these three possibilities is more probable than the other two. Since we know next to nothing about Nahum and his career as a prophet, however, deciding among these possibilities would not enhance our understanding of the text to any great extent.

From an analysis of the compositional form, this appears to be a book about a revelation received by a prophet sometime during the seventh century, a revelation concerning the long-range implications of the Assyrians’ retreat from Jerusalem in 701. The book was written sometime after the fall of Nineveh in 612 by someone who had studied the record of the earlier revelation and who saw this event as the fulfillment of what the earlier revelation had anticipated. The book, which at some point became associated with the name of Nahum, was written to show that Nineveh had fallen in accord with what had earlier been foreseen, and to deduce what later generations could generally learn from this. The document is in this sense "the book of the revelation (ḥāzôn) of Nahum" (1:1b; on the meaning of ḥāzôn [RSV vision] in this context, → 1:1, Structure). We have now to consider in what sense it is also a maśśāʾ (1:1a; RSV oracle).

Genre

Many commentators continue to regard the book of Nahum as a collection of prophetic speeches and poems that are lumped together only because they all relate in some way to the theme of Assyria’s decline and fall (e.g., Seybold, 19; Roberts, 9–11, 37–38). In its overall arrangement such a document is not supposed to follow the conventions of any particular genre. As the structure analysis of the book’s major sections will show, however, the individual units of the text are carefully organized into a recurring conventional pattern, and compositions formed in accord with this pattern were typically used to teach the lessons that could be learned from the past when viewed through prophetic eyes (→ 1:2–2:11; 2:12–3:19). The book of Nahum, in each of its two main parts, bears the generic stamp of the (→) prophetic historical exemplum. The issue is thus not whether the book is organized along generic lines, but whether the book as a whole bears the stamp of the same genre as its subsidiary sections, or perhaps of some similar genre. Past scholarship has not often given due consideration to the issue of the genre of the parts in relation to the genre of the whole. When it has, only two of the resulting theories have managed to gain any measure of acceptance. The book as a whole has been described as an extended eschatological hymn and as a prophetic liturgy.

According to the first of these two theories, the book becomes a kind of eschatological vision because of the way in which prophecies concerning the historical event of Nineveh’s fall have been redacted to give them an eschatological significance (e.g., Schulz, 99–101; Renaud, 213–18). Like the figure of Babylon in the book of Revelation, the personification of Nineveh here becomes a symbol of all that is evil; and the overthrow of Nineveh thus represents the consummate deliverance of Yahweh’s elect through his final defeat of the forces of evil at the end of time (e.g., B. S. Childs, Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979] 443–46). For supporting evidence those who hold this view often adduce the reference to Judah’s enemy as bĕlîyāʿal (RSV the wicked) in 2:1b (cf. 1:11), arguing that this casts Nineveh in the role of Belial, a satanic figure who often figures prominently in late postexilic eschatological scenarios (e.g., Jeremias, 14–15; Renaud, 203). The thesis depends primarily, however, on the argument that the introduction in 1:2–8 is a hymn that serves to eschatologize the battle description running through the rest of the book, action that would otherwise seem to remain on an earthly historical plane.

Both of these arguments are untenable. There is no evidence that the term bĕlîyāʿal had come to denote a personification of evil by the time Nahum is generally supposed to have reached its final form (Sweeney, 366–67). In both 2:1 and 1:11 this word can only have the meaning that it ordinarily denoted before it became a proper name, i.e., self-destructive lawlessness (→ 1:11–14, Structure). The use of this term thus does not automatically carry with it any eschatological connotations. More importantly, however, the function of 1:2–8 in the book as a whole cannot be accurately described as an eschatologizing one.

Despite the scholarly consensus that 1:2–8 provides a hymnic introduction to the book as a whole, it is doubtful that this is so (→ 1:2–10, Genre). It is therefore problematic to assume that Nahum’s description of Nineveh’s defeat is rhetorically comparable to the descriptions of Yahweh’s victories in the Psalms. Even if this were the case, however, for two reasons one cannot really say that 1:2–8 adds an eschatological dimension to the action in the rest of the book. First, the description in 1:2–8 is itself not eschatological in any strict sense. There is undoubtedly an allusion to Yahweh’s primordial combat with the forces of chaos in 1:4, but this mythic precedent is the basis on which the text describes how he may generally act at any time (1:2–3, 7–8), not how he will specifically act at the end of time. The description in 1:2–8 shows no trace of an Urzeit-Endzeit polarity. Second, the present compositional form of the book as a whole does not develop conceptually from the specific case of Nineveh’s fall to its broader theological implications, even if such thinking was originally the impetus for the redactor to elaborate on prophecies concerning this event. The book now moves conceptually in precisely the opposite direction, from broad generalizations regarding a pattern of divine activity to a specific historical case of it. The point is not to add to Nineveh’s defeat any larger dimension of meaning that was once not perceived, nor to make it the symbol of something yet to come, but to present this event as a concrete temporal actualization of an eternal divine potential. The book as a whole thus cannot be characterized as an extended eschatological hymn.

The other theory, that the book is a prophetic liturgy, is also problematic. Following Humbert (Essai d’analyse, 269–72; Le problème, 3–4), several scholars have argued that the shift from one addressee to another, which occurs at various points throughout the book, is symptomatic of the way in which various officiants and members of the congregation typically respond to one another in worship (e.g., G. Fohrer, Introduction to the Old Testament [tr. D. E. Green; Nashville, Abingdon, 1968] 449–51). On closer examination, however, this turns out not to be the case. The composition of Nahum does not actually entail the quasi-dramatic alternation of voices that is generally characteristic of liturgy, but only a single prophetic voice that is alternately directed to various different addressees (J. H. Eaton, Vision in Worship [London: SPCK, 1981] 14–21). Some scholars have therefore retreated to a weaker form of the liturgical theory, arguing that Nahum is a composition designed for liturgical recitation rather than a liturgy per se (e.g., Watts, 5–6; Christensen, Liturgical Composition, 168–69). Other scholars, however, would now go no farther than Coggins, who grants that a good deal of the material in the book shows affinities with what appears to be ‘cultic usage,’ but concludes that this may only imply an indebtedness to the language of the cult (p. 10).

Although the theory of Nahum as a prophetic liturgy has not proved tenable in its original form, in its modified form it poses a question that still remains open: Is this the type of composition that was intended to be publicly read or recited in a liturgical context? This may be the case because both of its two major sections have the same genre as texts like Deut 32 and Ps 78, poems that were presumably intended for such liturgical usage. From this fact it does not necessarily follow that (→) 1:2–2:11 and (→) 2:12–3:19 were used in a liturgical setting, or that together they form a composition used in a liturgical setting. In the final analysis one must account not only for the resemblance between the main body (1:2–3:19) and such prophetic didactic psalms but also for the relationship between the superscription (1:1) and the main body (1:2–3:19). On this level, as well as the level of the main body itself, the book of Nahum and this group of psalms may no longer be comparable.

The liturgical theory also calls attention to a prominent feature of the text that requires explanation, regardless of how the question of Nahum’s liturgical recitation is finally resolved. Taken together, the book’s individual units may not constitute integral parts of a prophetic liturgy; but considered separately, each of them could conceivably have a setting in the cult or royal court. As the analysis of the individual units will show, nearly all of them use rhetorical conventions of direct address resembling those that are at home in some kind of ritual or ceremonial context—the kind of symbolically defined context, for example, in which a character personifying the city of Nineveh is at least figuratively present, or perhaps even played by an actor, and can thus be apostrophized or dramatically addressed by a prophet of Yahweh (as is the case with respect to the five individual units in 2:2–3:17). This fact does not necessarily mean that the individual units with such traits ever existed independently, or that they were ever actually used in a cultic setting. Nor does this fact necessarily have any direct bearing on the question of whether the book as a whole was designed for liturgical recitation (→ 1:2–2:11, Setting). If, however, one proposes that the book was designed for some other purpose, one must also explain why the book consistently employs the kinds of direct address that reflect the symbolically represented presence of characters personifying nations and cities.

Sweeney has proposed that the main body of Nahum resembles the kind of refutation speech that typically forms part of a (→) prophetic disputation (pp. 374–77). This avoids some of the problems associated with the theories of Nahum as an eschatological hymn or prophetic liturgy, but it does not reckon sufficiently with the phenomenon of alternating direct addressees. Sweeney’s proposal is also problematic because a disputation usually includes an explicit statement of the position or attitude with which the prophet wishes to contend (→ Hag 1:2–11, Genre), and such a statement is lacking here. Sweeney argues that the issue in dispute is implied in the introductory unit (1:2–10), which imputes to the audience the opinion that Yahweh has no power over world affairs. After contending with the audience on this point, the prophet attempts to refute it in the rest of the book (1:11–3:19) by showing the fall of Nineveh to be an act of Yahweh. Without any explicit indication that 1:2–10 is in fact contentious, however, it is difficult to tell whether it should be taken in this way. The introductory unit might just as plausibly be taken as an axiomatic assertion that Yahweh has the power to destroy his enemies and protect his allies, thus giving rise to the question of who his enemies and allies are. The rest of the book might then be seen as a response to this open question, showing (among other things) that these roles can be reversed over time. In any case the theory of a prophetic refutation speech does not adequately explain the conventions of direct address that are such a striking feature of Nahum.

Sweeney identifies the addressees as Assyria, Judah, Nineveh, and the Assyrian king, but it is difficult to tell what kind of rhetorical situation he imagines for a prophetic disputation that would include all these parties. In what context might a prophet even fictively engage an audience that is Assyrian as well as Judahite, attempting to disabuse both groups of a commonly held opinion regarding Yahweh’s power or lack thereof? The setting of a prophetic disputation is usually conceived as a prophet’s face-to-face encounter with a live audience, in which an attempt is being made to change the group’s opinion or attitude (A. Graffy, A Prophet Confronts His People [AnBib 104; Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1984] 118–24). Some of the texts that have been classed as prophetic disputations are probably fictional examples of the genre that were never actually used in such a setting, but even in these cases an element of verisimilitude is maintained with respect to the way the audience is characterized, so that one can still realistically imagine the speaker in a face-to-face encounter with the kind of group that a prophetic disputant might have confronted. This is hardly the case with regard to Nahum.

Of course one can never actually address